


i will bounce you on the lap of silence (boy, you shake it right)

by vulpesvortex



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Dancing in the Rain, Foreign Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 03:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpesvortex/pseuds/vulpesvortex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sure you can.” Clint pulled Bruce from his seat and bounced out into the square, laughing up at the sky and letting the rainwater fall into his mouth. </p><p>(Or Clint pulls a mission in Rio and dances with Bruce in the rain.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will bounce you on the lap of silence (boy, you shake it right)

Clint haphazardly stashed his jacket into a garbage bin as he ran past, looking over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of a number of armed thugs bursting out of the house just as he cut around the corner and vanished from sight.  
  
Bruce walked up to him from where he’d been lounging against a wall, a book dangling from his hand. He offered Clint his baseball cap. "You okay?"  
  
“Yeah,” Clint patted him on the shoulder, guiding him the other way round, “let’s go.”  
  
They walked leisurely down the street, fingers brushing now and again, just close enough to be obvious. It was a good cover; still, Clint made sure he was ready to grab the handgun stuffed into the back of his waistband should they hit any snafus. Behind them, they could hear his pursuers arguing at the crossroads about which way he had gone. The men split up and one even came dashing past brandishing his gun, but he didn’t spare them a second glance.  
  
“Everything go down okay?” Bruce didn’t look too worried, maybe a little relieved at seeing Clint unhurt. He was smiling a little from under his curls.  
  
“Yeah, we’re good.”  
  
“Good.”   
  
They walked around for a while until they came upon a small square lined with bars and restaurants, most of them little more than canopies with a bunch of tables and chairs under them, but they looked cozy enough. In the corner of one of the bigger terraces, a band was playing salsa music.  
  
They settled on one of the smaller bars, taking a high table at the edge so that they could have a look at the square and the people in the other establishments, and so they wouldn’t be hemmed in in case they needed to escape.  
  
“I brought your stuff, by the way,” Bruce said when they’d ordered their drinks. He held out the backpack and Clint pulled out a pair of flip flops and a shirt that wasn’t coated in either blood or gunshot residue, which he put on, and surreptitiously slid the gun into the bag.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“ _De nada_.”  
  
Their drinks arrived soon enough, iced tea for Bruce and a beer for Clint. Clint tried not to think too much about how adorable Bruce looked, smiling at him around his straw, the way he was glancing out from under his eyelashes giving the expression a decidedly devious appearance.  
  
“You know, I’ll never understand how you got Fury to let me come along.”  
  
“Like I said, tourists travelling alone are suspect. A couple is way less conspicuous. Plus, you speak the language and you know your way around this place. I convinced him I needed a cover, and that you would be the perfect guy.” Clint could hardly believe it worked himself. He’d been on the Avengers long enough that he’d become unaccustomed to running solo ops, and Bruce had looked like he needed some time to get away from things for the past three weeks. A covert mission in Rio was the best he could offer at the moment.  “And also he maybe owed me a little something from an, uh, _incident_ that I’m not currently disposed to discuss.”  
  
Across the table, Bruce gulped. “ _Fury_ owed _you_?”  
  
“Okay, maybe he doesn’t so much owe me as I offered to destroy some embarrassing blackmail material I may or may not have had in return for a favor.”  
  
“What was it?” Bruce looked positively gleeful at hearing this, which was not surprising. Clint was pretty sure that were their positions reversed, he’d be trying to shake the details out of Bruce by now and get him to dish the dirt on Fury, but of course Bruce had oceans more restraint than most people.  
  
“Can’t say, it’s part of the –“ the rest of Clint’s sentence was cut off by the loud, crackling roar of thunder as the dark sky that had been hanging over the city for most of the day finally cracked open and let loose an almost epic torrent of rain.  
  
People ran from the streets into the shelter of the bars, shrieking and laughing, holding up shirts and newspapers to shield themselves from the downpour. Under the cover of the awnings, the people continued on drinking and talking, undisturbed. The air felt a little looser, even, the sudden release of tension puffing free like a breath that had been held too long.  
  
Clint sat close to Bruce at their table, pressed together by the sudden crowd, their thighs touching. When the rain went from Great Flood to Pleasant Shower, a commotion broke out in the street when a girl in an orange dress ran into the street from one of the terraces, dragging a young man along. She was olive-skinned and lovely, bouncing on her heels in the mud, and walked up and spoke to the band before dragging her friend back into the square. Almost immediately, the band set in with a quick rhythm, louder than before, and the couple started to dance.  
  
They looked like they were having fun, soon soaked to the skin but obviously exhilarated, and other people were quick to join them. Before long, the square was covered in people, most couples or groups of friends, all dancing in the rain. Under the canopies, the other bar patrons were watching with big smiles plastered on their faces. It looked like a scene ripped straight from the movies.  
  
Bruce was watching the dancers with his hands cupped around his drink, looking relaxed and happy. Clint poked him in the side.  
  
“Hey, how do you say ‘dance with me’ in Portuguese?”  
  
“ _Vamos dançar_ ,” Bruce answered automatically, before his eyes widened when he realized what Clint was asking. “Oh, no, no, no. No way.”  
  
“You’re my cover, big guy. You gotta follow my lead.”  
  
“But-"  
  
“No buts. Come on, it’ll be fun,” Clint said, already getting up.  
  
“You know I can’t dance!”  
  
“Sure you can.” Clint pulled Bruce from his seat and bounced out into the square, laughing up at the sky and letting the rainwater fall into his mouth.  
  
“ _Espero_!” he called, no idea if he was saying it right or mangling the Portuguese, but Bruce stepped out from under the canopy and into the rain, so it did the trick.  
  
“You’re nuts,” Bruce said as Clint pulled on his arm and twirled him around.  
  
“We fight supervillians for a living!” Clint chuckled, already swinging his hips. The music was lively and upbeat, not quite like salsa, sounding like it was improvised here and there. What did he know? Maybe they had parties like this all the time in Rio. Bruce was starting to get into it, losing a little of his hesitancy as he became just one in a crowd."You know, we used to dance sometimes at the circus?"Clint confessed. "One of the acrobats had a violin and after the show and the clean up we’d just have a go, you know, wind down afterwards.”  
  
Clint felt loose, like he could do anything right now, and seeing Bruce grinning at him through his soaked hair as they danced just made him feel even better. Soon enough they were both a little lost to the world, caught up in each other’s exhilarated expressions and the quick kisses they sometimes slipped in, and they alternately danced close together and a bit apart when the songs picked up the pace and the dancing got wilder.  
  
All around them people were swinging and gyrating, men and women and kids, some dancing complicated steps and others just shaking and twirling each other round, all of them letting go and just enjoying the spontaneous party.  
  
“Hey, I know this song!” Bruce exclaimed suddenly as the band started on a new song, something with a cheeky drum rhythm and a lot of trumpet that sounded vaguely familiar to Clint. “God, I used to listen to this in college all the time!”  
  
Clint grinned, pulling Bruce closer with a hand low on his back, pressing their hips together. They were still moving, shaking their hips and shoulders, and it felt fantastic. “You listened to this in college and you can’t dance?” Clint teased. It wasn’t true, though. As soon as Bruce had eased up a bit, he’d stopped being awkward and just gone with it, and he looked lovely just shaking loose, unselfconscious and laughing like the sky might crack.  
  
As the night wore on, the music slowed and the dancing crowd thinned, but a number of couples hung around, probably too wrapped up to notice much of what was going on besides the meandering rhythm and their lover’s touch.  
  
Clint was pressed close to Bruce, still keeping him near with that hand just above his ass, the other on his hip, and feeling hot despite the chill of the rain and his wet clothes. He tucked a finger between the buttons of Bruce’s soaked cotton shirt, reeling him in for a kiss that was downright filthy, all tongues and teeth. When they broke apart, Bruce leaned in, his arms wrapped around Clint’s shoulders, and whispered in his ear. “ _Ficas esta noite comigo_?”  
  
Clint shuddered. The foreign vowels sounded delicious on his lover’s tongue, and the low-level arousal he’d been nursing went straight to his gut despite the fact that the only thing he’d got from that sentence was ‘comigo’. “You want me to do what with you?”  
  
Bruce pulled back a bit, nuzzling at Clint’s jawline. Did Bruce know how much the Portuguese was turning him on?  
  
“ _Quero ir contigo para a cama.”_ Bruce’s lips were curved into a little wicked smile, his eyes sparkling, so Clint guessed that answered that question.  
  
Clint kissed Bruce again, loving the way his stomach flipped over when Bruce opened up for him even after all these months. Water ran into his mouth, over his lashes and down his neck, a thousand points of sensation where the rain pelted them and their mouths melded and their hips rubbed together hotly. Bruce’s hands had strayed to his ass some songs back, gripping firmly so that Clint needed very few pointers to catch his meaning even if he couldn’t understand a word.  
  
“ _Deixe-nos ir para casa_ ,” Bruce whispered, lips brushing Clint’s. His cheeks were flushed with arousal and a tiny amount of embarrassment, Clint was delighted to see, because it meant that the other man was about to say something dirty. “Let’s go home. I want to spread you out on the bed and kiss you everywhere.”  
  
“Mmmmh,” Clint moaned into the kiss, no less affected for hearing those words in a language he could understand. “Good plan.”  
  
They left the square together at something only a little short of a run, both laughing and pushing at each other. Sometimes one would corner the other against a wall and kiss them until neither of them could see straight, and then they’d trip along again through the narrow, winding streets, up stairs and past balconies, until eventually they reached their hotel.  
  
They rushed past the reception desk, unperturbed by the stares they received in the small lobby. Clint dragged Bruce up the stairs, holding his hand with two of his own behind his back, Bruce stumbling close behind.  
  
“Gimme the key,” Clint hissed, giggling, pressed against the door of their room.  
  
Bruce fumbled the key into his hands and bit his neck, groaning hotly. “God, just hurry.”  
  
“ _Hurrying_.”  
  
The door opened a second later, both of them nearly dropping onto the floor due to the sudden shift in balance and probably they would have just gone at each other there and then if they had. Clint laughed, grabbing Bruce’s sopping wet shirt and nearly throwing him at the bed. He swiftly pulled off his own shirt and kicked away his pants before launching himself onto the mattress.  
  
They stilled for a moment, Clint hovering over Bruce with the bed sheets getting damp under their wet clothes, the both of them panting. Clint nuzzled Bruce’s neck, his hands stealing under the shirt to meet familiar flushed skin, and he couldn’t help but moan a little at the thought of picking each other apart on the olive-green sheets all night.  
  
He felt light-headed, as if he was about to pass out simply from being so deliriously _happy_. This ‘vacation’ had been a brilliant idea.  
  
“See? I told you it would be fun.” Clint smirked as he licked a line up Bruce’s exposed collarbone.  
  
“Mmm, you get that smug look off your face or I will blow it off for you.”  
  
“Really, a blowjob that’s supposed to make me _less_ smug? That’s the best you got?”  
  
Bruce flipped them over, settling onto Clint’s hips, and started to undo the buttons of his cotton button-down. His curls got into his eyes a bit, making the rakish leer he gave Clint all the more dashing. “Oh, _isso está certo_.” He purred, and let out a huff of laughter when Clint arched into him. “It’s going to take _hours_.”  


**Author's Note:**

> I am not a Portuguese speaker or actually in any way familiar with Portuguese aside from this one vacation I took years ago, and most of the lines I used are taken from a Dutch/Portuguese phrasebook, so these translations are fairly loose. If there are any mistakes please let me know!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Espero – I’m waiting.
> 
> Ficas esta noite comigo – Will you stay with me tonight?
> 
> Quero ir contigo para a cama – I want to take you to bed.
> 
> Deixe-nos ir para casa – Let’s go home.
> 
> Isso está certo – That’s right.
> 
>  
> 
> The title is from Interpol's _Not Even Jail_.
> 
> The song Bruce recognizes is Fleetwood Mac's _Tusk_ , which I had on repeat while writing this.


End file.
